Six hours down the Death Road towards south. Next two, through bumpy, gravy, almost impassable in the rain period ways, through deep, asian rainforest.
Somewhere in the middle of the jungle there is a camp for those that escaped from Burma. All waiting. There is no way back. Departure from Nu Po Camp can only be compared to the flight to the moon.
I hide camera in the bag. I will take it out only few times. Mix that can be composed from these pictures is not any set, rather snapshots that make me remember about these few days spent in the place that doesn’t exist.
Roof from palm tree leafs. Modest dinner. Scent of tropical rain in the air.